<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Simple Moments by sweeterthankarma</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832234">Simple Moments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma'>sweeterthankarma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pride Month Prompts 2020 [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>I Am Not Okay with This (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Friendship/Love, Pillow Fights, Post-Season/Series 01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:41:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dina slips around the kitchen in her fuzzy yellow socks, faded from wear and slightly dusty from her previous trek into the basement to grab the old popcorn maker. Syd drinks in the sight of her, every movement and brush of her hair over her shoulder. Dina is effortless. Too pretty. It almost hurts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dina/Sydney Novak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pride Month Prompts 2020 [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Simple Moments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Pride Month and welcome to my first ever month-long fic challenge! For thirty days, I'll be writing and posting LGBTQ+ fics inspired by the prompts listed <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/517562182177703635/">here</a>. These fics will be anywhere from 100-1,500 words, will be for different fandoms, ships and characters, and will all stand alone. Here goes nothing!</p><p>Day 20 Prompt: Throw pillow.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dina slips around the kitchen in her fuzzy yellow socks, faded from wear and slightly dusty from her previous trek into the basement to grab the old popcorn maker. The fabrics rolls up past her ankles and folds over into bunches, bright in contrast against the tan of Dina’s skin. Syd drinks in the sight of her, every movement and brush of her hair over her shoulder. Dina is effortless. Too pretty. It almost hurts. </p><p>     “Got it!” Dina announces, breaking Syd from her reverie at the same moment the popper whirs and stutters to life. The kitchen fills with the scent of butter— too much butter, definitely, but there’s worse things in life than the stomach ache that’ll arrive when they finish the oversized batch, not to mention the impending likelihood of diabetes. They went through a half dozen donuts this morning already, a sugary but sensible breakfast, and neither of them regret it. They’ve collectively yet silently decided they deserve all the sweetness they can get. </p><p>Dina hangs out near the machine, watching it studiously with her elbows tipped onto the counter. Her face is too close to the hot metal, the breakable plastic, and Syd thinks about tugging her away, or at least verbally suggesting that she takes a few steps back. She’s afraid of things exploding lately. More things. </p><p>She’s always on edge. It’s only a rational response. She tries to remind herself that: that she’s okay, she’s behaving normally and thinking rationally and doing as well as can be expected when dealing with uncontrollable powers that tend to result in undesired and irrevocable manslaughter. She’s surprised that the same worries aren’t on Dina’s mind as well, but Syd doesn’t ask. Maybe Dina’s just better at hiding it than she is. They don’t talk about what happened when they don’t need to. So, never, really.</p><p>The machine doesn’t combust and the popcorn turns out delicious, golden bright and the best Syd’s had in years. The budget cinema the next town always serves up burnt or stale kernels and nothing in between, and no one Syd knows ever dares to eat it except Goob. That kid will eat anything.</p><p>Dina sits close to Syd on the couch, their crossed knees overlapping and bumping with one another as they laugh at the lame comedy playing on screen. Syd’s far more interested in the view beside her rather than the one in front, if she’s honest; if it were up to her, the rest of the world surrounding them could choke, all go to hell. When she’s with Dina, she tries to forget that there’s any world that exists beyond them, beyond the here and now. She’s usually pretty good at it. Today’s no exception. Dina’s a good thing for her to pay attention to. She never bores her.</p><p>Halfway through the movie, Syd reaches for Dina’s pinkie finger with her own. By the time the credits roll, their hands are draped across one another, fingers loosely intertwined, and Syd’s hoping her palm isn’t too sweaty.</p><p>     “What’d you think?” Dina asks, turning to face her. She licks her lips, pink and full and practically heart shaped. They taste like artificial sugar, the kind that companies inject into sparkly lip gloss that’s probably secretly poisonous. Syd knows this. It’s been months since she dared to put her own mouth against her best friend’s for the first time and just a few days since she’s done it again, but she has a good memory. Kissing someone like Dina isn’t something that’s easy to forget. </p><p>Syd fails to answer Dina’s question in time, not contributing to the Bill Murray trivia game at hand, and gets a throw pillow in the face as punishment. Dina’s laughter rings through the air, youthful and giddy as feathers slip out from the torn side of the fabric, litter across Syd’s face and the couch and the floor, everywhere. All Syd can see for a moment is a rush of white, fluff settling atop her body and tickling her nose, but then Dina leans over her, rests her weight gently atop on her stomach, and then, just like always, the only thing Syd is aware of is<em> her. </em>Nothing else. No one else.</p><p>It’s the simple moments like this, the ones that don’t seem like anything at all when they’re happening, that end up meaning the most later on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come say hi and celebrate pride month with me on Tumblr <a href="https://sweeterthankarma.tumblr.com/">here.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>